Eye See You

It just wouldn’t be unSCruz or a Burning Man regional event if there wasn’t some form of body modification available.

Body modification with includes tattoos and sensitive bits.

The king of body modification, on account of the fact he goes to all the events and always brings his “kit” with him is the Hiney Hygiene guy.

He will pamper your posterior as well as give you a temporary tattoo.

So I dropped trou.

And this is what happened:

 

FYI, posting that last photo got me banned on Facebook, so enjoy it here, where the only censor is me and I fully approve this post.

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Creep

I’m at unSCruz, dressed in a purple ballgown quinceañera dress with silver wings.

The bride is wearing white with gilded golden horns.

We’re processing to the wedding site – all the women surrounding the bride-to-be.

This guy comes up to me.

“Hi, remember me?” he asks.

I recognize him as a man I went on a date with a few months ago.

Greg.

“Yes, hi Greg,” I say.

He starts talking and it’s very clear that he is on something – alcohol, drugs, whatever.

He’s altered.

And he’s making me uncomfortable, talking about how upsetting it was that I never agreed to go on a second date with him.

I can barely get a word in edgewise, he’s talking a mile a minute.  I’m starting to feel really uncomfortable.

He points out his tent.

“That’s where I’m staying,” he tells me.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asks.

Suit yourself.

Then he asks if I’d like to hang out some more after the wedding procession.

I think of The Swede and Tejas.

No.

NO.

NO!

“I’m here with someone else. . .” I allude to The Swede’s presence.

I know that if I can just make it to The Swede, he can get this guy to leave me alone.

“Ok,” says Greg and scampers off.

So let it be knows, if you mention to a date that you are attending unSCruz, he just might buy his own ticket and show up and stalk you.

Long Distance Lust

“I want to pack you in my suitcase and take you home to Sweden,” The Swede told me.

We were walking to the bathroom at unSCruz.

He’d had some whiskey and his lips were loose.

It was utterly charming.

“I can’t ask you to wait, can I?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

My heart lurched a little bit.

This big, cuddly, soft-spoken, shy man has cleverly wormed his way into my heart.

“It’s been such a fun weekend,” I told him.

Part of me really wanted to say, “Let’s do this!”

But I know I’m no good at long distance relationships.

Not at all.

I’m not really good at relationships, fullstop.

At least not in recent times, at least.

What makes me think that I could make it work when we live 8,600+ miles apart (as the crow flies)?

Stupidity?

Romanticism?

Affection?

Full blown LUST?

Whatever the cause – stupidity or lust, the end result is the same.

Me, single.

What else could I be?

A Steady Diet of Kisses

When you’ve been single for a while, flirting comes as easily as breathing.

Breathe in.

Plant a kiss on your favorite single guy.

Breathe out.

So imagine me at unSCruz, trying to not flirt because I was there with The Swede.

All those delicious men who flirt back with me and make me feel sexy and appealing. . .

. . .they were off limits.

I’ve gotten in the habit of kissing as many people as possible.

It’s a hard habit to break and fortunately, given that The Swede has a more European view of things, I didn’t have to.

I went around kissing all my friends – male, female, trans, bi, gay, furry – you name it, I was kissing it.

Of course, the best kisser in the whole bunch was The Swede.

He would grab me and kiss me, just because.

Or say something provocative and then plant one on me.

For someone who is usually starving for affection, I got a steady diet of it during unSCruz.

So much so that I know it’s going to be hard for me to go without it.

The Swede leaves for Sweden today.

And I am going to miss him.

 

 

The Wedding

My wedding – February 2, 1996

If you ask me what are the top 5 weddings I’ve attended, the unSCruz wedding would have to be at the top of my list, just under my own wedding.

I got so emotional as I watched the father-of-the-bride walk his daughter down the rose lined aisle.

It was a beautiful ceremony and one that was infused with the flavor of the couple getting married.

The bride wore horns.

The groom wore a crown.

They were perfectly matched and watching them share their love with their family and friends, one couldn’t help but be moved by the total and utter devotion they showed each other.

It was truly a sight to see.

Of course, the family and friends of the bride and groom were equally festive for the nuptials.

I saw belly dancers, fairies, steampunk outfits, wedding dresses, Greek goddesses, peacocks, saris, you name it – it was out there on display.

Everywhere you turned there was something to look at.

The wedding was a melting pot of styles and flavors.

So beautiful.

The Swede saved me a spot up front by the bride and groom so I got to hear the exchange of vows and watch the handfasting up close.

They promised to love one another til the end of time.

What else is there?

 

In praise of HANDSY men

I’m just going to come out and say it:

I like a man with grabby hands.

You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about if you have the same affinity for it as I do.

A handsy man is one who is constantly touching you.

Grabbing for you.

Getting up in your space and making you feel his presence.

I love this.

Charlie The Aussie was a handsy man.

So is The Swede.

As far as lovers go, a handsy man makes an OUTSTANDING partner.

You’re right in the middle of doing one thing when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, you discover he’s also doing something else.

Like with the Swede, one hand would be up in my hair, messing it up, and pulling on it and I’d discover the other one was stroking my, ahem, chest.

It’s quite a thrill, if you catch my drift.

My friend Yvonne said that she felt starved for touch after her husband passed away.

I think he was a handsy man.

She said he was always touching her.

It occurs to me that out of the Five Love Languages, TOUCH is one of them.

Maybe this is how Yvonne’s late husband, Charlie The Aussie, and The Swede show affection.

Then again, maybe they’re just REALLY EXCELLENT LOVERS.

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Happy Mother’s Day!

Mother’s Day is coming up and I am lucky enough to have two mothers.

Sherri, who gave birth to me, and Alice, who raised me.

For years while I was growing up, I would think of my birthmom on Mother’s Day and wonder if she was thinking of me as well.

And she was.

There are other important women in my life who I celebrate on Mother’s Day.

My Grandma is 94 years old.

I remember her cooking special meals for me when I visited her in Pennsylvania – pierogis, meatloaf, anise cookies, and piggies (stuffed cabbage).

Her recipes will always be my comfort food.

I also think of my sister, Lisa, on Mother’s Day.

Although she only has fur babies, she is the closest thing my boys have to a second mother and her role in our family is very important.

Also, there’s my Aunt Stacey, my cousin Jennifer, and my niece Bella, who I love and admire greatly. They are real warrior princesses and I’ll love them forever for accepting me into the family when times were rough.

Finally, I think of Barbara, my dear friend.

Her mother has passed away and so my heart goes out to her on Mother’s Day when I know she acutely feels the loss of her mom.

Of course, it’s impossible to think about Mother’s Day without thinking about the two young men who made me a mother in the first place – my sons Duncan and Gavin.

What incredible young men they are growing up to be and I find myself in awe of their spirit and zest for life.

They are, by far, the best things to ever happen to me and I thank the universe on a daily basis for allowing me to be their mother.

So on this Mother’s Day, I’m sending out my love to all the mother’s out there and all their beautiful children.

That includes YOU!

Milestones

May 13, 2016

According to Tinder, that’s the day that I first met The Swede.

Some of you have been asking how I met The Swede and the truth is I met him on Tinder.

He was on a business trip to the Bay Area from his home in Stockholm, Sweden and was looking for a tour guide.

I was online looking to meet someone cool.

I agreed to take him to Santa Cruz.

I love going to Santa Cruz and playing tour guide to people who are unfamiliar with the area.

We ate on the Wharf, played air hockey, and I made him take off his shoes and dip his feet in the Pacific Ocean.

I taught him to eat raw oysters, though he wasn’t a big fan.

He was soft spoken and shy, unlike me.

He left for home the next day and I thought perhaps I might see him again if he came back for another work trip.

And of course, I did see him on his next trip.

And his next trip.

It took 3 dates to get him to kiss me, but now that we’ve kissed, the trick is getting us to STOP KISSING.

Well, the WHOLE reason why I’m writing this post is because it’s May 13, 2017 – which means I have officially known him for an ENTIRE year!

Milestones.

Bad at Flirting

I don’t intentionally set out to be BAD AT FLIRTING.

It just turns out that way.

I’m actually quite shy when it comes to being around people I have an attraction for.

I play it cool.

No sense letting on that I’d like them to stuff me like a Christmas stocking.

Usually someone else has to make the first move.

And then I unleash myself.

Beware of the beast!

I have been known to:

  1. Shove my naked crotch in a man’s face.
  2. Tell a guy that having sex with him is on my bucket list.
  3. Years ago I told a guy I was going to go home and masturbate while thinking of him.
  4. I showed up on a doorstep in nothing but a long jacket, garter belt and stockings.
  5. I once told a guy I was going to hit on him and then proceeded to hit on him.
  6. Don’t get me started on all the XXX rated pictures I’ve sent through text. . .

Subtle, I am not.

I don’t know how a shy person evolved such an outrageous way to flirt, but it’s the honest truth.

I’m either totally shy or I’m bombing you with my lust.

There’s a reason my playa name is Bombshell.

The one where she does a strip tease to “Freedom”

Apparently, I like the song “Freedom” by George Michael a lot.

And by a lot I mean A LOT!

There I am, sipping my cocktail at Ali Bar Bar on Friday night when the song “Freedom” starts to play over the speakers.

Instantly, I am transformed into STRIPPER MODE.

I start grinding my hips, lifting up my shirt, and lip synching the words:

“Well it looks like the road to heaven
But it feels like the road to hell
When I knew which side my bread was buttered
I took the knife as well
Posing for another picture
Everybody’s got to sell
But when you shake your ass
They notice fast
And some mistakes were built to last”

All for the viewing pleasure of The Swede.

I even grabbed the Viking helmet off his head and wore it myself.

Oh my!

We might have made out a little too.

Okay, we might have made out A LOT!

I’m not sure what The Swede thought of my amateur performance, but I can tell you one thing:

I sure did get hella lucky that night!